


The Night Is Still Young

by sunflow3rs



Series: kusatta club [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Anal Sex, Crushes, Dancer, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romantic Fluff, Sex Talk, Songfic, Stripper Yamaguchi Tadashi, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 19:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29069514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflow3rs/pseuds/sunflow3rs
Summary: "what is the hurry? It's pretty earlyit's okay, we'll take our timethe night is still young"or, Oikawa decides to wait for Yamaguchi after his work and invites him to a coffe. At 3 a.m.
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Series: kusatta club [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132409
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Night Is Still Young

**Author's Note:**

> Yea, I'm sorry for typos :/. I love OiYama so bad ahhh, well, hope you like it <3
> 
> I'm as @/sanflowuers on Twitter if you want to talk about this universe lol.

The streets of the city were hot. Summer was just around the corner and the high temperatures had been the protagonists of these last days. However, when darkness hung over the buildings and the Sun kindly gave way to the Moon, a gentle breeze blew through the dirtiest alleys. To the man who was waiting with a patience he couldn’t remember having next to the huge light sign that named the club, that blissful breeze felt more like a gust from a hurricane itself.

His back was leaning against the stone wall in front of the door, stamping his feet with a certain boredom and not giving a damn that his coat was expensive enough to be brushing against the walls of Gomi Alley like that. It smelled bad and he hardly understood that a club as important as The Kusatta was installed in that kind of place. The inside was a completely different world than what was seen out there.

He brought the cigar he had just lit to his mouth. It was the third who smoked in the hour he had been there, being the only thing that seemed to end, or at least try, with the cold that ran through each place on his back. His lips hovered around the filter and he sucked the air filling his lungs, more than used to the itch in his throat, and then released it through his nose with ease. Oikawa wanted to get out of that damn alley, but he couldn't allow himself to waste all the time he'd been waiting for the dancer, so he forced himself to stick his butt against the stinking bricks.

He was convinced it was worth it.

The door opened, then, a group of five people emerged from it. Oikawa recognized them all and he licked his lips, grateful that his blissful workday was finally over. The only girl who was with them was the one who noticed his presence, giving the dancer a light tap on the shoulder, and he turned his head, his eyes falling on each other instantly.

Yamaguchi smiled at him, impressed, with the funny grin he used to make. His face shone, now clean of the makeup that had adorned him during the night, and with a gentle slap of the air he asked his friends to wait for him a moment. He walked over to Oikawa, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, being completely different from what the man used to see. He had taken off the schoolgirl uniform he had worn during his performance, his hair was no longer tied in two ponytails and he was no longer wearing the green tie around his neck.

There wasn't a grain of glitter on it and it still shone like never before. He looked amazing in his baggy pants, his tank top and his backpack, looking even younger than he was. If Oikawa hadn't known he was nineteen, he might well have thought that who was walking towards him was a high school boy.

"What are you still doing around here?" He asked. Yamaguchi didn't need to look at the time to know that it was late, that the club had closed a while ago and that Oikawa had been there all that time for no reason, in his opinion. The man shrugged, stubbing his cigar against the wall so the smoke won’t disturb, and averted his gaze with a disinterested edge.

"I was waiting for you," he replied. Yamaguchi felt his cheeks heat up, his blood rising to his cheekbones, and he was grateful that the light in the alleyway was bad enough that Oikawa didn't notice it. 

However, he did it. Oikawa noticed how Yamaguchi was embarrassed in front of him and felt that this was indeed the breeze of fresh air he was looking for.

"You didn't ask for a dance today," Yamaguchi told him, trying to change the line of conversation before he couldn't control the ball of nerves that had settled in his stomach the moment he saw him there. Oikawa's simple laugh showed him that he was not going to be able to control his emotions, at least not being so close to whoever provoked them.

“Did you miss me?”

Yamaguchi’s blush grew inevitably and he cocked his head shyly, hoping that Oikawa would stop staring at him with those eyes he should be more than used to by now. He wasn't, and his heart pounding in his chest was a proof of it.

"No…" He tried to say, lowering his shoulders and trying with little success to make the words make sense inside his head. "It's just... I don't know, I thought you would."

Oikawa smiled. When they were inside Kusatta, when Yamaguchi grabbed his hand and dragged him to Purple - the one that had become theirs space -, he did it with such security, without any fear in his movements and taking the lead between the two. 

Having him there, without his bare legs or the gloss on his lips, wavering like a teenage boy in love, was what Oikawa had been waiting for since he first saw him. It was the adventure he had been fighting for and now that he had it, he was going to sit back and enjoy the ride.

"I can make it up to you, if that's what you want.” He paused, licking his lips and feeling the situation that was beginning to read between them. Oikawa hummed, pretending he was thinking about what he was going to say as if he hadn't been thinking about it the entire time he had been waiting in that dirty hole. "Maybe with coffee?"

"Oikawa-san, it's almost five in the morning," Yamaguchi scolded him, looking back at him.

"The night is still young, and so are we, Tadashi-kun."

His eyes. Brown, dark, open, explicit. Yamaguchi shouldn't have looked up because now he really couldn't refuse whatever stupidity the man blurted out. When did he start to feel that? Was it when he saw it from the stage? When did he dance for him? When did his stomach growl and his heart scream to stay close to him when he looked directly into his dilated pupils?

Hinata's call brought him back to reality. He asked Yamaguchi to hurry up, that it was late and that they should go home. To sleep, because it was almost five in the blissful morning and the next day they were going to meet at the Kageyama academy like every week. He tightened his fingers inside his pocket.

"And where would we go for coffee at this time?" He asked, practically trying to make him see reason, because it was impossible for them to find an open cafeteria in the district they were in. Yamaguchi needed to go home, he was tired, he wanted a bed. Oikawa shrugged, feigning disinterest again. He was not a very good actor and that only made the butterflies in his stomach intensify.

"There's a place that is always open in the building where I live."

Yamaguchi laughed, taking a hand out of his pocket and raising it to his chest, genuinely amused by the comment. Oikawa felt the heat rise up on him, his jacket seeming suffocating as he tried to keep his racing pulse from being so noticeable, believing that his heartbeat had completely lost control. If Yamaguchi laughed like that again, he would probably die.

"Let me guess," the dancer paused, wiping the edge of his eye of any tears that might have escaped. "It’s your flat?"

Oikawa's tongue clicked inside his mouth, as if he had just been caught committing a crime, and he continued the joke with a grin.

“You caught me.”

Yamaguchi couldn't believe what he was about to do. He was really going to sneak out with that man on a Saturday morning to go to his house. A place he has never been before. It wasn't that he was afraid, however, for some strange reason he had learned to trust Oikawa with a blind faith that he had no idea where he had come from. It wasn't like he'd known him for a long time either. 

Oh God, what had Oikawa done to him to make his body behave like this?

He turned to his friends, who looked at him between curious and annoyed. Tsukishima, in fact, had his brow furrowed at the couple and, just watching him, he was sure that he was going to make a stupid decision. He refocused on Oikawa.

“Give me a second,”

Oikawa smiled, proclaiming himself the clear winner, and watched as Yamaguchi walked towards his friends to inform them that he was not going to return home with them. Hinata jumped up next to him, shaking his shoulder like it was some of the best news they could have given him, and Oikawa was glad that he had befriended the bartender during the last few weeks that he had visited the club.

The girl, Yachi, blushed, imagining each of the things that were going to happen that night as if it were written in a picture book. Kageyama and Tsukishima shared the same frown, annoyed and not trusting a single hair in him. The waiter's hand even wrapped itself around Yamaguchi's wrist, holding him back, and without saying a word asked him to think twice. This reassured him.

Tsukishima smelled something bad in Oikawa. He would even prefer that Yamaguchi went to bed with Daishou. The fucking Daishou.

Yamaguchi said goodbye to them, then, returning to the man and starting to walk towards the exit of that alley.

"I hope you have a good coffee, Oikawa-san," Yamaguchi commented. Oikawa smiled at him, indicating the path he had to follow to reach his car with a slight movement of his hand.

“I do,”

Yamaguchi knew that Oikawa was going to have one of those big, expensive, shiny cars you see in television commercials. After all, he was the future leader to the Seijou companies, being the son of one of the most important men in all of Japan. Still, he allowed himself to be amazed at the luxurious black car that was parked on the side of the street as if it were any ordinary one. 

Nor did he comment, imagining that it would lead to Oikawa teasing him in one way or another. The man approached the passenger door before Yamaguchi was even within range. Then he opened it, asking him with a smile to enter.

Yamaguchi tried not to panic in the six seconds it took Oikawa to turn the car around and sit next to him. Is he really about to do that? He, outside the club, was not as cheeky as he was inside, being the walls of the Kusatta and its neon lights his comfort zone, which allowed him to behave as he wanted when he wanted without the need to measure his words. Being there, next to Oikawa in his car, was out of any limit he could have imagined.

"You usually talk more, Tadashi-kun," he commented then, almost reading the mind of the dancer. Oikawa had started the car and they were driving out of the district the club was in, their eyes on the road most of the time, glancing softly at their companion. He smiled, knowing what was going on in his head. "Now I make you nervous?"

Yamaguchi shook his head, slipping over the seat and watching how quickly the buildings fell behind them, trying to keep the older man from noticing how he had managed to make him blush again.

"You don't make me nervous at all," he lied blatantly, barely gathering himself. He was dying of nerves. Why the hell was that happening only to him? Was Oikawa as calm as he seemed? The man brought his hand up to his thigh, then, taking him by surprise and causing him to jump onto the seat. He looked at him with wide eyes, asking what he was doing, but Oikawa was only smiling with self-sufficiency.

“If you say so…”

Oikawa parked the car at the entrance of a huge building in one of the wealthiest districts of the city. Yamaguchi had passed in front of him a thousand and one times, and yet it was the first time he noticed how loudly he shouted that only million dollars people were accepted there. The reception area was a larger space than even the apartment he lived in with Tsukishima and Yachi.

They took the elevator up to the top floor and Yamaguchi thought about how typical it was for the boy with money to live in the attic. He imagined what his house would be like since he stepped foot inside the metal box, but none of his thoughts did justice to the space in which Oikawa lived. It was a huge place with gigantic windows like walls that allowed you to see the entire city as if it were in your power.

Oikawa let the boy take his time to explore, somewhat amused at how his eyes were sparkling, and focused on settling in the warmth of his home. He took off his jacket, leaving it on the couch and walked to the kitchen, turning on the light, being the only thing that illuminated the place. Yamaguchi was distracted enough that he barely noticed how Oikawa moved to his television to play a song.

Yamaguchi looked at him then, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Do you want me to remove it?” Oikawa asked, now somewhat doubtful of his option. He was reassured by his refusal.

“Please, no,”

Oikawa smiled, taking his hands away from the remote and heading back to the kitchen. He began to rummage through the furniture for what he needed to prepare the coffee pot that he almost never used, but Iwaizumi had forced him to have. He raised his gaze to Yamaguchi, who caressed the chairs without believing that there was a material in the world as soft as that.

"How do you like your coffee?"

“Sweet,”

Yes, nothing different was expected.

Yamaguchi put his backpack on the side of the sofa, then, and decided to approach Oikawa, satisfied with the quick inspection he had done of his apartment. He had gotten so far into the world of man that he had almost forgotten the nerves that had been plaguing him. It was strange how comfortable he felt next to him. 

They were so different, they lived life in a way that had nothing to do with each other, they had been raised in completely parallel universes. And, like these, it was hoped that they would never touch.

Yamaguchi knew not to worry about such things. That if he was there at that moment it was because fate had wanted it that way. There was only one life and sitting with your arms crossed while you watched the world go by in front of your nose was not the option he had chosen to live it.

There was nothing wrong with standing in Oikawa's kitchen while he paced around preparing the coffee he had promised, humming the song he had played a few seconds ago. He turned around when the coffee was on the fire, catching Yamaguchi's eyes just as he always did.

He smiled, approaching him with a firm step, unlike him, Oikawa did not change even remotely when he was outside the club. He was always like this. Wild and determined. Yamaguchi envied him for a few seconds because of it. He couldn't afford to expose the alter ego he had created in Kusatta in his day to day life. He had a responsibility that he couldn't simply forget.

Oikawa held out his hand and Yamaguchi looked at it in some confusion. Even so, he did not hesitate for a second to grab it, again the trust he had in him forcing him to act without regard. The man dragged the dancer toward him then, turning his body and pressing his back to his chest. Yamaguchi gave a little scream of surprise, not expecting the push, but barely exerting force to separate himself, allowing him to wrap his arms around him like some kind of plasticine. Oikawa dug his chin on his shoulder, tightened his grip on his hip, and began to dance.

“What are you doing?” Yamaguchi asked, certainly amused. Oikawa hummed too close to his ear.

“I’m dancing,”

"That's usually my line," He laughed, following Oikawa's movements, letting him have control of one of his dances for the first time.

"Am I bad at it?"

"No, you do quite well."

Yamaguchi laid his head on his shoulder. His arms were crossed over his stomach, Oikawa's prisoner, not at all surprised about how pleasant his closeness felt. He inhaled his cologne by blowing his nose, sighing regretfully as if it were a stimulating drug that caused him to lose his senses, the perfect aphrodisiac to start the excitement of the moment. 

Oikawa's breath on his neck, hot, humid, suffocating, traveled directly to his heart, and suddenly, he believed that he was not sure if what he felt were the beating of his organ or Oikawa's.

The hand that was not tangled between his fingers was perched on his hip bone, guiding the dancer's movements, and he soon began to move purposefully up his side. Oikawa caressed his body gently still over his shirt. His touch burned, burned on his skin, and Yamaguchi turned his head, gazing at Oikawa's close face, at the half-open eyes that were already on him, calculating the moment when their gazes met

The grip became strong, now holding him by his chin as well, almost afraid Yamaguchi would pull away from him at that moment. Their heartbeats were frantic, uncontrolled, both willing to start and finish whatever it was that had been hovering between them since they met. They got a little closer, looking for the kiss they wanted, dreaming of how other one's lips would feel on their own. 

Yamaguchi was sure that Oikawa's mouth would taste of tobacco and alcohol, that he might kiss with the same intensity with which he was watching him, and that he would cling to him as if it were the only way to continue in the world of consciousness. On the other hand, Oikawa knew, without knowing it, that the lips of the dancer would give him a taste of freedom. Of freedom mixed with the cherry balsam that he used.

However, the beep of the coffee pot ruled the place, surpassing even the sound of music, causing the two boys to break the magical moment they had created. Oikawa clicked his tongue, then, frustrated and annoyed at the stupid thing that had spoiled his kiss with Yamaguchi. He released the boy, inadvertently, and walked over to the fire to put it out. 

He would blame Iwaizumi for that and for his blissful idea of buying a coffee pot. It had nothing to do with it and they weren't two related matters, but he would feel better after doing it. After all, scolding an object was a little boring.

Yamaguchi stood still, watching with regret as the man eased out of his grip and backed away from him, forgetting the last few seconds. Seconds? Maybe minutes or even hours had passed, but he wasn't sure about it. The time with Oikawa had felt eternal, comfortingly eternal, and he didn't want it to end again. There was fire inside him, it burned inside him, he was looking for more and he was not going to allow it to leave him in that lonely way. He didn't mind looking like a desperate fool child, because he was sure it was reciprocal, that Oikawa was crazy and that he was too.

He trailed behind Oikawa, settling less than a step behind his massive back, with determination. The man was about to pour the coffee into the cups when he noticed Yamaguchi's soft, familiar fingers brushing his arm. He was more than used to them, in fact, he had touched him so many times during his private dances that he was sure he could guess which finger and which hand it was that was stroking his bicep almost asking him to stop what he was doing. 

The heart on his right traveled up his sleeve until it reached his forearm, holding him, now what he asked for is more evident. Oikawa spun on his feet, finding Yamaguchi too close, raising his eyebrows a bit in amazement.

“Are you sure of this?” Yamaguchi asked him, muttering, still with the same song playing in the background. He supposed Oikawa had programmed it so that when it was finished it would be put on from the star.

The music didn't really seem as interesting as the person in front of him at the moment, and that wasn't something he could say often. Oikawa tilted his head, leaning forward and closing the distance between their faces.

“Why? Are you afraid?”

Yamaguchi licked his lips, gently shaking his head. 

"I don't," he confided, and this time, he wasn't lying. There were a thousand and one emotions running through every inch of his body but fear was not one of them. He doubted even that he could ever feel it if he continued by his side. "I just want to hear you say it."

"Yes, I am," he whispered, pausing before asking, since he was in no rush. "Are you?"

His words, then, did not match his actions. Because Yamaguchi had smiled with some amusement, Oikawa had seen him vocalize a refusal, he had heard him affirm that he was not sure of anything that was about to happen and, nevertheless, the dancer had brought his hands to the nape of Oikawa and he'd broken the distance between their mouths as if the conversation they'd just had was just a stupid trick question.

Yamaguchi and Oikawa were kissing and soon realized that whatever idea they had in mind about what their kiss would be like was completely misleading. That their lips dancing against the opposites with the force and intensity with which they did it was something for which no one was prepared, and that it disrupted each of the pieces that put their brain into operation, to arm it at will. 

How long had they been waiting for that moment? Two weeks? It felt as if it had been yesterday the day they introduced themselves, and yet it seemed their bodies had known each other for a lifetime.

Perhaps it was fate that brought together two soul mates who were predestined to belong to each other.

Oikawa grabbed the dancer's thighs, taking him by weight and leaving him sitting on the kitchen counter. Yamaguchi gasped in surprise, clenching his fingers to his neck and praying that he didn't separate from the older. 

The tongue participated in the sensual dance a short time later, savoring the cavities of others and entangling one with the other. Yamaguchi pressed his legs on the other's waist, placing them around him and seeking greater friction between their bodies. And as if this was the switch he needed to allow passion to completely cloud his mind, the kiss turned rampant, lewd and obscene. He searched for the buttons on the white shirt Oikawa was wearing, unbuttoning them without even looking at them, with an ease that the older man shouldn't be surprised by.

"What's the hurry?" Oikawa laughed on his lips, parting far enough to see Yamaguchi's flushed face in its fullness. He took off his shirt, throwing it anywhere. "Can't you see it's still early?" Yamaguchi gasped, somewhat embarrassed, when Oikawa kissed him again with the gentleness of the beginning, and groaned in frustration when he pulled away again. "Let's remember this day."

"Oikawa-san…" He started to say, willing to beg if it was what the boy wanted.

"Tooru," he corrected him. Yamaguchi opened his eyes, not expecting the comment, and then he smiled at him.

"Okay, let's take it easy, Tooru."

The kiss became a reality again. Yamaguchi was fondling the naked torso of Oikawa without hurry, now calmer, tracing with his fingers the line of their well-formed muscles. Their breaths were heavy, mingling with each other, and they lost consciousness of which hot breath belonged to whom.

Oikawa's mouth moved away from the boy's lips, walking in uniform strokes with his tongue up to his cheek, down to the line of his chin and lost in the arch of his neck. He gave him soft bites on his skin at the same time that he felt how Yamaguchi tangled his fingers in his hair, pushing his ankles and causing his groin to collide again, this time showing the lumps that were beginning to bother his pants.

The Seijoh’s leader moaned on his neck, bringing his hands to the other's rear to keep the friction, lifting him again. Yamaguchi sought his lips and allowed the older to move around the room with his eyes closed and his mouth occupied with his. 

It was not a problem, in fact, Oikawa reached his room without hitting a wall once. He laid him on his bed and Yamaguchi paid not the slightest bit of attention to how big and soft his mattress was, or to the window that let the light of the city illuminate his moment, and even forgot the music they had forgotten in the room and it was heard in the background almost reminding him of the colored rooms of the club.

Oikawa began to take off his pants, taking advantage of the fact that they had separated enough for it, and Yamaguchi imitated him without even thinking twice. He lifted his hips and dragged his tracksuit down with the help of his heels, tossing it to the foot of the bed carelessly, and before he knew it, Oikawa was between Yamaguchi’s legs and their mouths became one again.

Yamaguchi smirked over the kiss, turning them over and straddling his lap. He stripped off his shirt, the underpants being the only thing keeping them from being completely naked, and caught Oikawa's gaze on his torso.

"Weren't we going to take it easy?" The dancer scoffed. Oikawa groaned, bringing his hands to the opponent's waist, rocking him over him and taking advantage of the position they had adopted to rub themselves in search of friction. Yamaguchi placed his palms on his chest, arching his back and taking control of the situation. He moved his hips, dancing the same way he did in the Kusatta, living for each of the gasping sighs that the older let out from between his parted lips.

“Tadashi,”

The boy approached his call and joined their mouths with demands in a new kiss. Oikawa took advantage of the fact that he had lowered his guard, concentrating on his lips, to turn him around and imprison him left of him. He liked it better that way. Oikawa liked the feeling that he might be able to devour him if he wanted to. He liked to see how his figure overshadowed that of the dancer and he became tiny under his arms

If someone asked, Yamaguchi would admit that he also liked the predatory look Oikawa gave him. He liked to lose his role and forget his principles when he offered his hand. He liked the feeling that he might be able to give his everything without asking for anything in return. 

And he should have been frightened by that feeling, the nerves in his pit of his stomach or the pounding of his heart, he should have been terrified at the emotion he had never felt before, he should have refused to let his affection grow with explosive speed in the one who had.

Oikawa moved away from his mouth, moving his wet kisses down the length of his torso, caressing his sides and playing with the hem of his underwear. He looked up to meet Yamaguchi, his uneven rising and falling chest, flushed cheekbones, and swollen lips. He lightly brushed his erection with his nose, his warm breath sweating the fabric, and he laughed when the dancer moved impatiently beneath him. He sat up, digging his knees on the mattress, and thus made the underpants that were beginning to disturb his vision disappear. Yamaguchi was lying on his mattress, naked and desperate for him, and he concentrated on keeping the mental image in the deepest part of his head. He never wanted to forget it.

Yamaguchi was thinking the exact same thing when he had the boy as his mother brought him into the world in front of him. He settled back between his legs and their lips drew together as if they had missed each other in the seconds they had been apart. Oikawa's long fingers wrapped around his erections, hugging them, and they both drank in their own moan. The dancer grabbed the opposite neck, continuing with the kiss and deepening it even more if that was possible, and brought the other hand to the union of their limbs, helping the swing up and down that Oikawa had started.

They were masturbating together. Their hands work the limbs together, gasping, groaning and snarling, turning their heads into disasters they, in fact, could not be more proud of. 

Yamaguchi's thumb traveled to the tip of Oikawa's muscle, and stroking it, cheating in that game that had no name, he mocked the faint flash of desire on the older's body. Oikawa trembled on top of him, moving his hips forward and tightening the circumferences he was holding.

The dancer squeezed Oikawa's hair as the only sign of his orgasm, breaking the kiss but not the closeness of their faces as he allowed himself to growl loudly, his mouth open and his eyelids closed. The opposite bit his nose, then, jerking once more before releasing himself into his own orgasm. It had been faster than they'd both admitted, but they were on the edge and neither was going to be able to hold back their momentum.

Oikawa's hand was wet and sticky. Yamaguchi found the sensation of semen between his fingers disgusting after masturbating or having some kind of sexual intercourse. He used to fetch a washcloth when he was done, or even run to the bathroom to wash up if he needed to. That the taller carried him up to her butt, then, was a surprise that he did not imagine would feel so pleasant. He shifted his mouth to the dancer's ear, still gasping for air, speaking deep into his head.

"I'm going to fuck you, Tadashi,"

Yes, he was waiting for it to happen. Yamaguchi kissed him in response, almost inviting him to do it right then and there, to stop talking absurdly and to dare to get inside him until he became one. He hugged the opposing head, spread his legs, and arched his back as Oikawa's first finger crossed his entrance. They were long, thin and delicate, and they explored inside without any haste. He felt the waters and took advantage of each of the reactions it provoked.

The second finger entered him with more pressure and Oikawa froze as he noticed the other's annoyance. He pulled away, then, and Yamaguchi scowled at him, frustrated by the sudden feeling of emptiness, the hollow of his lips vacant. He forgot his annoyance, however, when the man took his heart and void to his mouth. He licked the length with unprecedented cheek, his eyes locked with the dancer's, wetting his fingers and savoring the sticky dry layer of cum.

Yamaguchi gasped. It was gross. Oikawa was a dirty pervert. And yet, he raised himself up on his elbows and searched for the opposite wrist. He decided that he could be that way too and shared the saliva from his fingers, almost spitting on them, keeping his gaze in surprise. He was not ashamed.

It was the temperature that made him be that way, that made him act like he didn't care about anything but the body inside him, that made him forget where they were, who they were and even what they were doing. It was the lights of the city, it was the background music, it was the cologne, it was his eyes. 

It was fire.

Oikawa inserted both fingers at once and Yamaguchi moaned with his mouth open. He moved them from the inside to the outside, opening and closing them, leaning on the mattress with his elbow and kissing hard what could reach on Yamaguchi's neck. The dancer tried to grab hold of his side, digging his short nails at the height of his ribs, letting his hips swing as if it had a life of its own on opposite fingers. His eyes, half closed, watched him eagerly.

"Tooru," he called. He asked him silently, controlling his incessant gasps as he bit his lip, what they both wanted. Oikawa smiled, kissing him once on the cheek before standing up and walking over to his nightstand. Yamaguchi turned his head, sitting up heavily without understanding what he was doing, for a moment believing that the adventure was over, that Oikawa had regretted it, that it would be his turn to return home.

However, Oikawa took out a condom from the drawer and Yamaguchi sighed in relief. The older's dry laugh bounced off the four walls, somewhat amused at his reaction, as he opened the package and put on the condom.

"I'm not going anywhere," he laughed. Yamaguchi flushed, sitting on the bed and feeling a bit embarrassed. He crawled to where the boy was, then, digging his knees to the edge of his bed, allowing him to hug him, wrapping his back in his arms.

“I hope so,”

Oikawa kissed him, falling onto the mattress and settling between his spread legs. One hand on one side of his head and the other on his erection, aligning it with the opponent's rear. Yamaguchi's ankles dug into the opponent's back, pushing him forward, forcing him to start inside him. He wanted him so badly that the fire inside his was beginning to ache, burning his walls and evaporating every liter of his blood.

"You’re always in such a rush…" Oikawa complained, not wanting to hurt the boy. Yamaguchi growled on his lips, hugging his neck and arching his back forward, again, pushing Oikawa towards him.

“Tooru, please,”

He separated their faces, smiling at him, silently asking if Yamaguchi’s intention that night was to kill him. With his comments, with his laughter, with his looks and the blush on his cheeks. With his body that incited sin or with the way she hugged him. With your lips, with the taste of your mouth or the smell of your hair. With his confused eyes that watched him without understanding why he had separated, his hips moving slightly and his thrusts on his back. He didn't know if that was what he was looking for, but Oikawa was completely sure that he was going to get it.

He placed one hand on either side of Yamaguchi's head and then let his hip slide completely into his interior. His body tensed, not expecting the movement, feeling his eyes almost roll to the back of his head. Yamaguchi yelled, pressing his palms against Oikawa's shoulders, tensing the muscles that surrounded the older's body.

Oikawa didn't refuse when Yamaguchi asked for more. He didn't as he reached for his mouth and their lips met in a mess of saliva, tongue and teeth that grew less and less controlled. Nor did he complain when he brought his hand to his erection to massage it, or when the boy pulled away to bite his neck as he felt the familiar spasms of orgasm through every corner of his body. 

They moaned and growled, they squeezed each other, they shoved each other, they tried to kiss but couldn't get their mouths to line up, and then they managed to reach the second climax.

They lay back on the mattress, tired and sweaty, trying to make the slight tremors in their legs disappear, trying to control the fast and strong beating of their heart. Oikawa pulled off the condom, knotting it and tossing it somewhere, showing not a hint of concern that it might dirty the floor. Then, they inhaled and exhaled.

Turning their heads practically at the same time, they smiled in amusement at it and they breathed heavily again. They read with an ease that they were not surprised by what the other was plotting in his mind and, before they knew it, they were on top of each other again. It was good. The night was still young.


End file.
